


its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring

by seventhstar



Series: it promises light [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Regency, Childhood Friends, Engagement, M/M, Marrying Your Rich Childhood Friend Who Turned Out To Be In Love With You, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Regency, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: To Viktor’s surprise, Yuuri wants to be married at once; he even asks, hesitantly, if Viktor will obtain for them a special license. Of finishing the season while betrothed, or the marriage settlement that must be drawn up, or his trousseau and wedding clothes, he makes no mention.“I have had the license for some time,” Viktor admits.Yuuri colors a little.“But if you wish to diminish the scandal, the surest way will be to extend our engagement and behave as if we have done nothing wrong. Besides,” Viktor smiles at the thought, “I wish to show you off to all my friends, before I sweep you off to the country and share you with no one.”





	its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring

**Author's Note:**

> hhaahha y'all thought i was done BUT I WASN'T

In the end, Yuuri does return to Hasetsu that afternoon, and by post over Viktor’s objections. Viktor wants to rush to Hasetsu to ask Yuuri’s father’s permission at once, but Yuuri thinks that his family might appreciate some hours to adjust themselves to the idea. And he wants a chance to speak to the Nishigoris before the announcement is made.

To Viktor’s surprise, Yuuri wants to be married at once; he even asks, hesitantly, if Viktor will obtain for them a special license. Of finishing the season while betrothed, or the marriage settlement that must be drawn up, or his trousseau and wedding clothes, he makes no mention.

“I have had the license for some time,” Viktor admits.

Yuuri colors a little.

“But if you wish to diminish the scandal, the surest way will be to extend our engagement and behave as if we have done nothing wrong. Besides,” Viktor smiles at the thought, “I wish to show you off to all my friends, before I sweep you off to the country and share you with no one.”

“Well…perhaps,” Yuuri says, finally. They are sitting on the couch together, unchaperoned in Minako’s parlor; Aunt Lilia and Mrs. Okukawa are in another room, talking. Viktor has stripped off his gloves to hold Yuuri’s bare fingers in his own. “If it would decrease the gossip…we can be engaged for a little longer. If my parents don’t mind.”

“I am sure they will not.”

“I had better go if I am to make my post.”

“I shall drive you there myself. But first, you must tell me your favorite jewel, so I may buy you a proper engagement gift.”

“No!”

“You would prefer something else?”

“Don’t be absurd, Viktor, I have never even held a jewel of any kind. I should not know a quality diamond from paste and glass. You must not go to any trouble.”

“Indeed I shall, and since you have mentioned diamonds that is what I will bring.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri scolds. “Marrying me will be expensive enough already, without you wasting your funds on diamonds.”

“Nothing that pleases you could be a waste,” Viktor says. “But fine, I shall buy nothing yet.”

“Good.”

“I will make them a wedding present. That will give me time to have something made.”

“Viktor!”

“Did you not have to catch the post, my love?”

“Ridiculous,” Yuuri says.

He goes to get his trunk, and there is a scuffle as both of them try to carry it outside. In the end, Viktor wins, and has the pleasure of handing Yuuri up into the open carriage before he takes up the ribbons and sets off down the street. Yuuri jams his hat on his head and keeps his face lowered, as if he expects to be jeered at by passersby.

Viktor vows to do something about the situation, to allay Yuuri’s discomfort. A thought comes to him; now that Yuuri and he are engaged, there is no reason Viktor cannot actually throw a ball in his honor, officially, rather than having his aunt do it in secret. He can invite everyone of worth, and Yuuri can have a new dress (Viktor is so glad that sheer, Grecian gowns are in fashion) and everyone will be forced to admire him.

Yuuri boards the post, and Viktor is sad to send him away, but he squeezes Viktor’s hand before he goes.

His touch burns long after the post has departed and Viktor is on his way home.

* * *

The Katsukis are delighted to receive him.

“Yuuri is very happy,” Mrs. Katsuki says. “He is out now, but he will be back soon.”

“Oh, where is he?”

“He is with Yuuko and Takeshi—that is, the Nishigoris.”

The couple Yuuri said he intended to marry. He would have gone to live with them, borne them children, been held in their arms, never seen Viktor again. Viktor swallows heavily at the thought; when Yuuri mentioned it, he wrote it off as an odd attempt at flirtation, as if Yuuri meant to tease him into a declaration of some kind. Now he realizes that Yuuri was entirely serious; he had no notion of Viktor’s intentions at all.

Well, Viktor will have to ensure that he never doubts them again. He touches the velvet-lined box he has brought with him while the Katsukis review the settlement papers together. They give their approval, and their permission, and Mr. Katsuki signs the contract.

It is done.

“And you must call me ‘Mama’ now,” Mrs. Katsuki says, her round face lit by a familiar smile.

Viktor has to wipe away tears of happiness before he gladly accepts an embrace from each of them in turn. Then he offers to help with the inn until Yuuri returns, and before long he is dusting an empty chamber with only his thoughts to occupy him.

* * *

In the end, he does not get to give Yuuri his engagement gift until evening. Yuuri is horrified to see Viktor cleaning, but his expression is comical and Viktor insists on finishing the assigned work before they retire to Yuuri’s room. He fears he has not impressed Yuuri with his skill at housework (seeing as Viktor has none) but he consoles himself that when they are married they will have servants.

There, alone, he strokes Yuuri’s hair with his fingers and kisses Yuuri’s cheek and generally makes a fool of himself.

“I told you, I want nothing.”

“I did not buy it.”

Yuuri sighs and opens the box. He gasps and slams it shut; Viktor only glimpses the diamonds and pearls nestled within.

“Are these real?”

“From the family collection. I am afraid most of the pieces are out of style, and many are in storage and have not been worn in years, but this was my mother’s particular favorite.” He pauses for a moment; even after all these years, it still cuts at him that they are gone. He will never see them again, or ask their advice, or hear them scold him, or anything else. “But she was given it by her mother-in-law upon her engagement, and if she were…well. I am sure she would have passed it to you.”

Yuuri starts crying. Viktor crushes him to his chest, apologies overflowing from his lips, while Yuuri buries his face in Viktor’s coat.

“I can’t accept this.”

“I do not think it will suit me.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“If it helps, I would not object to you wearing it only when we were alone. And undressed.”

“…maybe.” Yuuri picks up the box. He holds it to his chest, and then shoves it into Viktor’s hands. “It won’t be safe here. Will you keep it for me?”

“Very well. Have you thought about the length of our engagement?”

“My parents are willing for me to have the rest of the season.”

“I will pay for it.”

“Viktor.”

“And you will have as many indecently transparent gowns as you like.”

Yuuri ducks his head, but he is smiling.

* * *

One night Yuuri comes to a dinner party at his townhouse, as Aunt Lilia has deigned to be his hostess again. The party goes well—Viktor has done his best to only invite people he trusts to behave themselves—and although there are few of them, Yuuri seems more relaxed than usual. He even has more than one glass of champagne.

Long after the guests have all left and the candles are put out, Yuuri remains with him in the dim drawing room, tipsy. He has been coaxed into Viktor’s lap, and is nursing a fourth glass; his spectacles have been removed and are sitting on the coffee table. His eyes are wide in the gloom, the perfect shade of red-brown, his body warm over Viktor’s knees.

“Darling, I ought to take you home.”

“Mm…” Yuuri leans against him. “I don’t want to go home.”

He kisses Viktor softly.

“You can’t stay here.”

“But I want to.”

“Soon.”

Yuuri sighs deeply. He lays his head on Viktor’s shoulder; he smells sweet. Rosewater, over his natural scent. He is solid in Viktor’s hold, and Viktor derives strength from it; Yuuri has never seemed burdened by Viktor’s confessions, by the glimpses into the terrors of his five years in Russia. He was close to death more than once, lost and regained everything, had not a friend in the world.

Yuuri’s one letter to him came when Viktor was at his lowest; he still has it, pressed between the pages of a volume of Shakespeare. That letter had given Viktor the strength to do his parents proud and not give up, when surrender would have been painless and easy.

He has money, and connections, and wants for nothing, but what Viktor craves is honesty and Yuuri alone of everyone he knows gives it to him freely.

“Can I borrow your books?”

“As many as you like.”

“When we get married I’m going to live in your library.”

“Really? Is that my primary attraction?”

“I like your hair,” Yuuri says. “And your hyperbolic geometry. And how you never forget anyone’s name or where they went to school or what they said to you at a dinner party that one time. And you cleaned our inn.”

“I cleaned it very poorly.”

“You did not think it was degrading?”

“It would not have cleaned itself.”

“You can clean our books,” Yuuri declares. “And I will read them.”

He lays his face in the crook of Viktor’s shoulder, inhales so loudly Viktor can hear it. He wonders what Yuuri would do, if Viktor seized him around the waist and gave him a good scenting, if he sucked at Yuuri’s neck until there was a mark there. If he carried Yuuri upstairs right now and took full advantage of him, spread him over the counterpane, coaxed him into ecstasy.

“You shall have anything you desire from me,” Viktor says. “Only stay by my side.”

Yuuri clings to him with surprising strength. “Yes.”

A few minutes later he falls asleep in Viktor’s arms.

The honorable thing to do would be to wake him and return him home, but Viktor, alone in a house of loyal servants, has no incentive to behave so; what can anyone do? Demand that Viktor marry him? He lays Yuuri out in a guest room, covers him up, and retreats to his own bedchamber.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, Viktor’s rest is disturbed as the covers are lifted and cold air seeps in. A warm body presses in beside his own, weighing down the mattress; it feels like a dream, and Viktor turns to take the phantom Yuuri into his empty arms.

But Yuuri is real, solid, wearing that same worn-out shift, spectacles removed.

“I’m cold,” he whispers, his voice like a feather on the wind.

“Come and get warm,” Viktor replies, and tucks him against his chest, against his heart.

* * *

In the end, they compromise: Yuuri gets his small, intimate wedding in Hasetsu, with only his family and Viktor’s aunt and uncle present, and Viktor coaxes him into wearing a French silk dress with Viktor’s mother’s diamonds and an accompaniment of pearl earrings and hair pieces. After the vows are said and the ring is on Yuuri’s finger and they are in Viktor’s carriage on their way north for their wedding trip, they sit in silence.

(Viktor asked Yuuri where he wanted to go, after the wedding; he offered Yuuri his choice of Viktor’s estates, either of the houses in town, any one of Viktor’s three seaside summer homes. Yuuri shook his head, and closed the account book he was reviewing—he had taken to studying Viktor’s dealings in trade—and said that he did not much care where they went.

“But what would make you happy?” Viktor asked.

“I shall be happy so long as I am alone with you,” Yuuri said. “And I think you are being cheated, here. These numbers do not add up.”

“They are not meant to, the man managing them is so competent I have decided to let the embezzlement pass.”)

Viktor’s largest estate, the one that came with the Dukedom, is where they are going; there are enough settled servants that the house can run itself and no neighbors who would presume to call on them first. Viktor has every intention of carrying Yuuri directly from the carriage to their bedchamber on arrival, and keeping him there until he tires of Viktor’s attentions.

But for now, he goes with Yuuri to the first inn on their route, and leads him up the stairs to their private chamber. They send away the valet and the maid; they barely touch their dinner or their wine. Yuuri keeps looking at Viktor through his lashes provocatively.

“What shall we do tonight, Viktor?”

“I intend to ravish you thoroughly.”

“Why? You already have once. We ought to do something else.”

“I—what?”

“Besides, I have it on good authority that to keep a husband’s interest you ought to refuse him periodically, to increase his love for you.”

“If my love for you increases any more, I will die of it. Forget that nonsensical advice, I beg of you.”

Yuuri does not say a word for a few moments, his eyes fixed on something Viktor cannot see in the shadows of their chamber. Dinner has gone cold.

Thinking to give Yuuri a moment to compose himself, for his mind is obviously engaged elsewhere, beyond the confines of this room, Viktor takes the trays into the hall and downs the rest of his wineglass for courage. The fire has begun to die down. He feeds it again, and then drapes his greatcoat over Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Yuuri?”

“I had no notion of it.”

Viktor sits down beside him and waits.

“Your being in love with me. I had no idea at all.”

“Yuuri—” Viktor begins, intending to tease him—to remark he ought to have new spectacles—before he is interrupted.

“Even now, I am half-convinced that all of this may be a vivid dream.”

He is wearing another scandalously tied collar, one that Viktor might undo with a flick of his fingers. Viktor turns the edge of one of the ribbons over.

“It cannot be,” Viktor says, with absolute conviction. “My dreams are never anything as sweet as this.”

Most of Viktor’s dreams are terrors—dark, endless, freezing terrors—that rob him of peace. But Yuuri’s shoulders under his palms are real enough, his skeptical eyes beyond Viktor’s powers of imagining.

“…I am going to dress for bed.”

“Of course.”

“And then you will come.”

Yuuri does not ask it like a question; he states it like it is the absolute truth.

“I will,” Viktor promises.

Yuuri presses his hand before he draws Viktor’s coat around his shoulders and goes. The door clinks shut behind him. They have sent away the servants; who knows how long it will take Yuuri to get himself out of his wedding dress.

He drinks more wine and waits.

**Author's Note:**

> ur xmas gift to me can be comments


End file.
